Why?
by Vampire Scooby
Summary: Romano is tired of asking why. So he stops.


**AN: **So, I can understand Romano's whole "No one loves me becasue my brother exists" thing. And I'm very suprised he's not suicidal. I just took how I think he'd feel and mutlipied it. This was the result.

Warnings: Cutting, Suicide, Death, Angst.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

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Why?

_Why?_

Why didn't anyone love him as a child?

_Why?_

Why was it that his brother was loved so much more?

_Why?_

Why did he have to get into trouble to get attention?

_Why?_

Why didn't the man that took care of him love him?

_Why? _

Why did everyone like his brother more?

With every question a new slash appeared on Romano's wrist. Pasta sauce colored blood staining his pasta colored skin. _Feliciano. _His younger brother. Exactly a year younger. Born on the exact same day just one year after him. Two children, no parents. Feliciano was raised by Austria and he by Spain. Spain always begged for his brother. So Romano acted up, he threw fits. But still all attention was on Feliciano.

As he thought this a new slash appeared. Blood flowed from his torn up arm. _Why?_ He looked to the door. No one came. No one cared. Not about him. Only his brother. His brother who he hated to see happy. Did that make him a bad person? Was it wrong that he couldn't love his brother? Was it his brother's fault? No. It was the world's fault. The world hated him. No one in the world loved him. They all loved his brother. Every single person. He glanced toward the door again. Still shut. He couldn't really expect anyone to come. He was Romano, not Feliciano. Who would come to save him? Spain? Spain liked him enough, but his brother was still number one. That was the same with everyone.

Romano took out the only other thing he brought with him. A revolver with one bullet. He'd only need one. Put it in. Spin it. To his head. _Click, _not that one. This was like a game developed by Russia. How lucky was he today? _Click_, two down. He was unlucky today. Each time the gun didn't go off he would look to the door, hoping for someone to save him. To yell at him. To care for him. To say they would miss him if they died. No such luck. This gun was against him too. It wanted him to be miserable. To have to look at the door and think what the world would be like with out him. _Click. _Still blank. Only three left.

Without him the world would go on. His brother would watch over all of Italy, he wasn't needed for the South. Spain would be happy that Romano was gone. He wouldn't have to worry about what he felt anymore. He could go after Feliciano all he wanted. Feliciano would be fine. He was to stupid to understand anyway, and he had so many others that he would forget he even had a brother. _Click._ Still didn't hit it. Only two shots left. Almost out of time. No one would come to save him. No one at all. As long as they had Feliciano they didn't need him. No one needed him. Grandpa Rome didn't want him. When he left and took only Feliciano he must have forgotten to take Romano too. He must not have known how much it hurt to be forgotten. _Where?_ Where was his grandfather when he needed a hug when he scraped his knee? _Why _wasn't he there? He was with Feliciano. Everyone always was.

Stinging tears left his eyes, mixing with the blood on the floor. _Click._ Only one more shot now. He was so unlucky. Romano rubbed his wrist with his free hand. Blood got on his fingers. He put them to the wall. His fingers seemed to move on their own as letters appeared in his blood. He needed more. He made another slice. His fingers curved and twisted on the surface. Tears made his eyes blurry. He couldn't read what he had written. Did it matter? Would anyone miss him when he pulled the trigger again? He closed his eyes one final time, felt the tears roll down his cheeks mixing with the blood on his arms, and pulled. _Click_.

Fin.

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So, ya...I was writing a very fluffy happy Hetalia fic, but this just popped up and I couldn't write happy till this was done. and incase you didn't know the thing with the gun is Russian Roulette. A game where you put one bullet in a revolver, spin it so you don't know where it is and take turns shooting yourself with it. So it's a game of death and luck. Romano thinks he's unlucky becuase he has to think about how no one wants to come and save him. But ya, I'm writing a happier one that will be up on Monday or Tuesday.

Oh, and Spain found the body. Romano had been dead for two miunets when he found it.


End file.
